Family
by Elfpen
Summary: A short oneshot inspired by a scene at the end of book one. Everyone at Hogwarts is visiting with family, and Harry is feeling a bit lonely. Oliver takes it upon himself to cheer up his young friend. Harry is 12. My first HP fanfic.


A/N: My first Harry Potter fanfic. I am a latecomer to the Harry Potter fandom, as I just finished the first book. When Hagrid gave Harry the photo album at the end, this scene popped into my mind. Why Oliver Wood, you may ask? I have no idea. I like Oliver, and I always saw him as something like an older brother to Harry. So, that's who he is in this story. Just a little oneshot to test the waters of the HP fandom. ;) Enjoy.

Also, yes, I know that there would probably never be a day in Hogwarts where all the parents, wizards and muggles alike, would be able to visit, and that this is all very AU, but hey… It's just a fun little oneshot. :D

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Oliver Wood was smiling brightly as he strode down the halls of Hogwarts, unperturbed by the ever-moving staircases and blissfully ignoring the bantering of two of the resident ghosts hovering off in the corner. Even from where he was, bursts of laughter could be heard wafting down from the Great Hall, where dozens upon dozens of young wizards and witches laughed and talked with their families. The past few days had been something of a special occasion at Hogwarts. The families of all attending students had been invited to stay at the school for a few days to visit with their children, check in on them, and spend time with them. Dumbledore had even done a little spell-manipulation to let in some of the students' muggle parents. It was all a very unusual, exiting affair, one that Oliver had enjoyed immensely so far. His grin broadened as he remembered the joy that came with seeing his mother and father again. In fact, he was in such an uplifted mood, that Oliver found himself whistling a happy little tune as he entered the Gryffindor common room. A bounce in every step, Oliver practically flew up the stairs to the boys' dormitory to retrieve his quidditch broom. Some of the Chasers from the Hufflepuff team had invited him to join in on a friendly game of quidditch with some other mix-matched players. Naturally, he'd agreed, and gone to fetch his broom immediately. Still whistling, Oliver made sure to grab his scarf. It was going to be a brisk autumn day, and freezing his neck off while up on his broom just wouldn't do. Broom in hand, a lively tune on his lips, Oliver trotted back down the stairs. He'd almost left the common room when a small noise stopped him.

He turned back around. It sounded like… Someone was crying. There it was again – a small sniffling noise. Brow now creased in curiosity, Oliver back tracked into the common room and looked about for the source of the noise. When he saw it, his face came together in a concerned frown.

There, curled up on the couch in front of the fire, was Harry Potter. He was in a state that Oliver never would have expected from him. Half-dried tears shone on his cheeks in the flickering light of the fire, and his eyes were red and puffy. At his chest, Harry clutched a leather-bound book. It's open pages were pressed near to his heart, and his face was half-buried in the binding. His arms were carefully placed around the volume as to not harm it, but the young boy held onto it with a fierceness that Oliver would have associated with a man holding on to his lifeline.

Taken aback, it took Oliver a moment to react.

"Potter?" He asked, a quiet kind of surprise in his voice.

Startled, Harry looked up at Oliver, his face flushing scarlet for a few seconds. He'd heard someone come in, but he didn't expect I to be Wood. And by no means did he expect him to notice him, sitting over in the corner by the fire. Not knowing what to say, and not exactly wanting to say anything at that moment, Harry turned his eyes downwards in embarrassment.

"Harry, whatever is the matter?" Oliver asked in concern, laying his broom aside to rest on a nearby chair. He moved closer to the other boy.

Harry's lips moved as if to form a reply, but no words came.

Oliver reached out to gingerly grasp the top of the spine of the book that Harry was holding, silently asking permission to look at it. "What's this?" He asked kindly.

Harry's vice-grip on the book remained for a few seconds, but after a moment's hesitation, he reluctantly let Oliver take the book.

Handling it carefully, Oliver moved the book around so that he could look at the pages. It was a photo album. Smiling and waving from each photo were two figures. One was a beautiful, green-eyed witch, the other, a lens-sporting, tousled-haired wizard. On either side of the photos were the initials 'L' and 'J'. When Oliver realized what he was looking at, his heart wrenched.

He was about to make some sort of comment, but to his surprise, Harry spoke first.

"It's kind of hard, you know." Harry said in a slightly quivering voice. "When everyone else you know has parents visiting – mums to hug, dads to talk to, to laugh with." He paused. He wasn't looking at Oliver, but staring into the fire. I mean, not that I'm not used to it. I have a few memories of them, after all. And those photos. Hagrid gave them to me at the end of last year." Harry told Oliver. "And I remember them a little bit. People tell me stories about them all the time. It's just…" He was trying desperately not to cry, now. It was extremely un-wizard-like and immature of him to be sitting here, crying like this, especially in front of Oliver. But Harry couldn't seem to help it. "It's just that… It just isn't enough, sometimes." Harry finally blurted out. Fresh tears were streaming down his face. "I wish…" He could barely talk through his sobs. "I just wish they were here with me." He finished in a small, pitiful voice. He buried his face in his arms.

Oliver tried to absorb what Harry had just said, and found that his jaw had gone slack. He'd never really thought too deeply about Harry's parents, or lack thereof. Everyone knew that they were dead – Harry was famous for the story behind that – but Oliver had never really thought about it on the personal level. He'd never thought of the effect it would have on Harry when everyone else, all of his friends, were surrounded by their own families. He suddenly felt a pang of sorrow for the boy as he realized that Harry Potter – not Harry Potter the famous boy who lived, or even Harry Potter the rising Quidditch star, but Harry Potter, his fellow student and friend – truly did not have any parents or close relatives to speak of, and was, in this moment, in desperate need of paternal-like comfort.

Following an inexplicable older-brother like instinct, Oliver sat down next to Harry and put an arm around the younger boy's shoulders. He found he didn't even have to say anything, as Harry took one look up at the older boy, and promptly buried his face into Oliver's shoulder, hugging him tightly. Oliver hugged Harry back as he sobbed into his shirt. He let him stay there for a while, waiting for Harry to calm down a little before he spoke.

"Harry," He told him at length, "I can't even begin to imagine what it must be like, in your place. But I want you to know that even though we might not be related by blood, you'll always have a family here at Hogwarts. A family so full of younger sisters, older brothers, annoying aunts and uncles and weird distant cousins that you'll grow sick of us all." He paused, and in a gentle voice, continued. "No one could ever replace your parents, Harry. But I'll try and do the best I can to be here when you need me." He said. He then pulled out a handkerchief for Harry, who took it gratefully.

"Thank you, Oliver." He said. And he wasn't just talking about the handkerchief. "I um… I'm sorry for crying in front of you like that." Harry said, a bit embarrassed. Oliver shook his head.

"Nonsense. Tears are nothing to be ashamed of, least of all over those we love." Oliver gave the boy a smile. Harry timidly returned the gesture.

"Did you really mean that, Oliver? About being family?" Harry asked after a moment.

"Of course." Oliver said. "I may have only known you for a year and a half, Harry, but you're like a little brother to me. I'll be here whenever you need me." He patted Harry's shoulder reassuringly. Harry smiled.

After a moment's pause, assured inwardly that Harry was feeling a bit better, Oliver decided that it would do the boy good to get out of the common room and share in the festivities with his Hogwarts family.

"Speaking of unbiological families," Oliver said, "I believe a certain red-haired wizarding family is intent on adopting you as one of their own."

At this, Harry smiled. "Mrs. Weasley acts like that towards a lot of people." He said.

'I dunno, Harry." Oliver said doubtfully. "When I was up at the Great Hall earlier, she was fussing about like a mother hen trying to find you. She might just adopt you whether you like it or not."

Harry's smile only widened. He looked down at his photo album longingly for a few seconds, then looked back up at Oliver. "I don't suppose my mum and dad would mind that all too much." He said. Oliver grinned at him.

"That's it." He said. "Now come on. Hufflepuff and a few others have invited me to a friendly quidditch match. I'm sure they'd all be happy to have you along as well. And perhaps while you're out, you can go convince Mrs. Weasley that you are, in fact, still alive, so that she can stop fussing.

Harry grinned. "Alright. I'll go and get my broom." Just as he was about to reach the stairs to the dormitory, he turned back to Oliver once more. "Thanks again, Oliver. For everything." He said.

Oliver merely shrugged. "That's what family is for."


End file.
